Post by ladytremaine on Feb 27, 2009 1:39:23 GMT -5
[[*Tremaine wipes your tears away with a tissue and hugs you tightly back*]]
Lady Tremaine felt Clayton's strong, warm hand in hers while she spoke, his thumb moving in circles on her skin. It felt comforting, and gave her the strenght she needed to carry on with her story. She was reliving her painful memories, and didn't notice Clayton's eyes narrowing when she spoke about her brothers.
Still, she DID notice him looking away when she spoke of her mother. And she heard his words. She turned her gaze to look at him, and her heart was filled with an, for her, unusual compassion. She hesitated for a moment, a bit unsure of how he would react. Then, before she could have any second thoughts, she lifted her slender hand in one tender movement, and placed it gently on his cheek. She caressed him gently, hoping to comfort him. Then, not wanting to embarrass him, she retreated her hand again, continuing her story.
She felt a bit nervous before she confessed the murder of her first husband for Clayton, afraid for his reaction, but not knowing why she was afraid. In her situation, she had done the only thing she could: bringing a brutal rapist to meet his end. She had only been 15 years when it happened, and her daughters were born when she was 16. As soon as she had recovered after the childbirth, she had made the fatal cookies, and placed them in her husband's room, before leaving for London to visit the Queen. She had not been at home when he died. Nobody had suspected her of the murder. Not then.
When she broke down by the painful memories, she felt Clayton's strong arm around her shoulder. She leaned against him for a moment, grateful for his support. Then she swallowed and continued her story, expecting him to turn away from her in disgust when he heard what she had done.
"There I was, only 16 years old, recently widowed and with two new-born daughters. Since nobody suspected me for my husbands death, I kept my title, the house and all his money. He didn't have any relatives. It wasn't easy for a girl that young to manage a castle and the household. I got a good man to manage the property for me, and then I returned to Normandy, to the castle of my parents.
Anyway, a few years later I met a widower with a young daughter. The girl was the same age as my own two daughters. When this man noticed my financial situation, he tried to force me into marrying him. I refused at first, because I didn't love him. I was still emotionally scarred after the miserable marriage with my first so-called husband. But the widower refused to give up. He said he would make my financial situation known all over Paris, if I didn't marry him. Later, after the wedding, he found out about the death of my first husband. He threatened to send me to the gallows, without even wanting to hear my explanation. He didn't think rape was a good enough reason to kill someone...."
She lowered her head, tears glittering in her eyes.
"He came into his room one day, and found a box of his favorite cookies.... It turned out they were poisoned. He died a slow and painful death. I wasn't home when it happened. I was having tea with the Queen of France....
My parents were dead by now, leaving all the responsibility for their castle and their property to me. So, I was now the Duchess of Normandy. Nobody suspected a Duchess of a crime like this.
My second husband left me his house, his gambling debts, and the responsibility of his daughter Cinderella. I know what people say about me. That I treat her bad. That I am cruel to her. But it is nothing against the cruelty her father showed to me. Every time I see her face, I am reminded of the coldhearted man who forced a merely 18 year old girl to marry him."
((End of story Good opportunity for Clayton to react and ask eventual questions. Don't forget about our prisoners, have anyone been earsdropping, or are Tremaine and Clayton undisturbed?))
Lady Tremaine felt Clayton's strong, warm hand in hers while she spoke, his thumb moving in circles on her skin. It felt comforting, and gave her the strenght she needed to carry on with her story. She was reliving her painful memories, and didn't notice Clayton's eyes narrowing when she spoke about her brothers.
Still, she DID notice him looking away when she spoke of her mother. And she heard his words. She turned her gaze to look at him, and her heart was filled with an, for her, unusual compassion. She hesitated for a moment, a bit unsure of how he would react. Then, before she could have any second thoughts, she lifted her slender hand in one tender movement, and placed it gently on his cheek. She caressed him gently, hoping to comfort him. Then, not wanting to embarrass him, she retreated her hand again, continuing her story.
She felt a bit nervous before she confessed the murder of her first husband for Clayton, afraid for his reaction, but not knowing why she was afraid. In her situation, she had done the only thing she could: bringing a brutal rapist to meet his end. She had only been 15 years when it happened, and her daughters were born when she was 16. As soon as she had recovered after the childbirth, she had made the fatal cookies, and placed them in her husband's room, before leaving for London to visit the Queen. She had not been at home when he died. Nobody had suspected her of the murder. Not then.
When she broke down by the painful memories, she felt Clayton's strong arm around her shoulder. She leaned against him for a moment, grateful for his support. Then she swallowed and continued her story, expecting him to turn away from her in disgust when he heard what she had done.
"There I was, only 16 years old, recently widowed and with two new-born daughters. Since nobody suspected me for my husbands death, I kept my title, the house and all his money. He didn't have any relatives. It wasn't easy for a girl that young to manage a castle and the household. I got a good man to manage the property for me, and then I returned to Normandy, to the castle of my parents.
Anyway, a few years later I met a widower with a young daughter. The girl was the same age as my own two daughters. When this man noticed my financial situation, he tried to force me into marrying him. I refused at first, because I didn't love him. I was still emotionally scarred after the miserable marriage with my first so-called husband. But the widower refused to give up. He said he would make my financial situation known all over Paris, if I didn't marry him. Later, after the wedding, he found out about the death of my first husband. He threatened to send me to the gallows, without even wanting to hear my explanation. He didn't think rape was a good enough reason to kill someone...."
She lowered her head, tears glittering in her eyes.
"He came into his room one day, and found a box of his favorite cookies.... It turned out they were poisoned. He died a slow and painful death. I wasn't home when it happened. I was having tea with the Queen of France....
My parents were dead by now, leaving all the responsibility for their castle and their property to me. So, I was now the Duchess of Normandy. Nobody suspected a Duchess of a crime like this.
My second husband left me his house, his gambling debts, and the responsibility of his daughter Cinderella. I know what people say about me. That I treat her bad. That I am cruel to her. But it is nothing against the cruelty her father showed to me. Every time I see her face, I am reminded of the coldhearted man who forced a merely 18 year old girl to marry him."
((End of story Good opportunity for Clayton to react and ask eventual questions. Don't forget about our prisoners, have anyone been earsdropping, or are Tremaine and Clayton undisturbed?))